


This is my family

by malariamonsters



Series: West Allen Family Feels [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Gen, West-Allen Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:39:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malariamonsters/pseuds/malariamonsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe West tries to be a good father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is my family

 

 

 

> I found it all on my own. It's little, and broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.

After seven months of making his home a home for Barry too, Joe had come to learn that sometimes the best thing to do when Barry was upset was to leave him alone and to his room. But Iris was still very young, and still carried the hurt from Francine’s absence openly, which made her hold fast to the things she loved with a fear that made Joe worry. When he found her sitting outside Barry’s door, her knees tucked to her chest and her shoulders looking smaller than they were, he kneeled down beside her and said, “What are you doing, baby?” 

“Just waiting for Barry not to be mad anymore,” she said, and her voice was small like her shoulders.

“You know he’s not mad at you, right?”

Iris just shrugged. Joe was still trying to find ways to let Barry be angry without it affecting Iris too much. He hadn’t noticed it, in the early days, how when Barry was upset Iris would get in a foul mood, too. All he’d been able to see was two kids who pushed too hard against any kind of discipline he tried to lay down. But now he recognized the patterns, knew the difference in silences between when they weren’t talking because they’d fought, and when they weren’t talking because they were processing something together. 

In the early days Joe had been scared for Iris, who had always been his sweet daughter, because she had started lying and she had started shouting, when she hadn’t done those things even after she no longer had a mother. He’d thought that maybe he’d made a mistake, that maybe by taking Barry in he’d undone the balance of what he had worked so hard to build after Francine had left, and that maybe this could hurt his daughter in ways he hadn’t thought of. He still worried about that, sometimes. But then he saw that Iris’s lies weren’t empty, that they were filled with how much she wanted to protect her best friend, and in that he saw her compassion and her love, and so he knew that she wasn’t simply acting out, but was growing. In their home, whenever a string was all tied up in a knot between them all, Joe knew how to find the tail end and pull it just right so that it would loosen and unravel. Seven months in and a whole lifetime ahead of them, and Joe found that what was most needed was a little patience, a little humor, and lots of time. 

“Come on,” he said. He patted Iris’s shoulder, stood, and nudged her to follow suit. “Let’s leave Barry alone for a little while, ok?”

“I won’t make any noise, Dad. I can just wait here quietly.”

“I know, baby, but don’t you think it’d be better to wait downstairs? _Family Matters_ will be on in a few minutes.” 

At that Iris’s face brightened. “Really?” she asked. “And then we can watch _Boy Meets World_?”

“Yup,” Joe answered, and was glad when Iris smiled back at him.

Downstairs, Joe settled on the sofa, the one Francine had picked out, and Iris tucked herself in next to him. Joe hugged her close to him and kissed the top of her head. “Da-ad,” Iris whined, and he thought she would tell him that she was too old for his Dad kisses. But instead she asked, “Are you ok?” and it surprised him. The most tender feeling came onto Joe then, because he had such a daughter, who was always surprising him with her care. Joe wanted to do everything he could to make sure she got to keep being that way, that nothing would happen to her to make her hard and unfeeling, or to make her feel that her kindness was a weakness. He shook his head and said, “Look, it’s starting.”

Iris loved _Family Matters_ , and always wanted to start watching before the show started, so that she could make sure to sing the theme song along with the television. Joe didn’t think Iris could really describe what the blues were, if she were asked, but she belted out _We're gonna smother the blues with tenderness_ with so much feeling he thought she must know what they were. Together, he and Iris laughed when Steve Urkel burst into the Winslow home and proceeded to wreak havoc, and they waited in comfort and contentment for it all to be tied up in 30 minutes’ time. 

Joe knew the moment when Barry made his way down the steps to watch along with them, but it took Iris until a commercial break to notice. Barry was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, and Joe could almost feel his sulkiness, like some tangible thing, stretching out around him. Iris moved beside him, folding her legs under her to peer over the back of the sofa.

“What are you doing?” she asked. 

“Nothing,” Joe heard Barry mumble. 

“Nothing?” Iris asked. “Are you sure you’re not watching the TV all the way back there, alone?” She was feeling better, Joe could tell, because she was teasing Barry now.

“No,” Barry answered her, and his voice still had the stubbornness to it that had made him keep his door closed, even though Iris had been sitting outside it.

“Don’t be stupid,” Iris said, and that’s when Joe stepped in.

“Iris,” he warned.

She rolled her eyes, and Joe couldn’t tell if it was at him or Barry, and then with a huff and a determined, almost haughty little twist to her lips that she’d gotten from her mother, she got up and went to Barry. Joe watched as she took both his hands and tugged him up from the bottom step, as Barry played at being reluctant and let Iris march him over to the sofa and deposit him on his other side. Joe moved an arm to put around Barry’s shoulders, and did the same for Iris. They watched the rest of the episode sitting like that, him in the middle, Barry with his legs swinging against the bottom of the sofa and Iris anticipating each time Steve Urkel would say, “Did I do that?” 

Joe didn’t like to think about the circumstances that had led to him having this little family that he loved so much—it was too much violence, too much loss, and for him, there was too much guilt involved. “You put him in there,” was a refrain Barry had only just stopped accusing him with in the past few weeks, and Iris still would ask him questions at the most surprising moments, like when they were making dinner and she asked him, “Dad, did Mom like to cook for me?” He didn’t like to think about the lie he’d told her, the lie he was convinced had given her some measure of happiness, or about how Barry had told him, out of the blue, “I don’t want your last name,” even though he’d never asked him to take it. All he knew was that what he felt for Iris, and was growing to feel for Barry, was the fiercest thing he’d ever felt, and he would do anything for them.  

Joe liked _Family Matters_ well enough, but he found the innocent and stumbling flirtation between Iris and Barry much more amusing. After the slew of TGIF shows he told them it was time for bed—“Yes, _even though_ it’s Friday and you don’t have school tomorrow, Iris”—and he listened to their conversation after they’d made their way upstairs and were each standing in the doorway of their rooms, leaning around the jambs to see each other. He tried hard not to laugh aloud as Barry asked in what was supposed to be a casual voice, “So who do you like better, Stefan or Steve?” 

“Mmmm,” Iris said, and it was like she was considering something very serious, “Steveurkel!” She said it all in a rush, like it was one word.

“Really?” Barry said, “But he’s such a—a nerd.” 

“So?” Iris said, and Joe couldn’t help it, he had to at least let out a _pfft_ at how affronted Iris sounded. “I like nerds.” And then, almost shyly, “You’re a nerd.” 

Barry went bright red. Joe thought for a moment that he should step in and save him, but the urge to file away some more embarrassing moments for when they were both older and thought they were too smart for him was too tempting. Iris asked Barry, “What about you? Do you like Laura or Myra?”

“Laura!” Barry answered immediately, and the look of triumph on his face when Iris smiled approvingly was enough to make Joe shake his head. 

“What about you, Dad?” Iris asked, turning to him.

“I like Carl the best. He’s the one who has to deal with everyone’s foolishness.”

“Ugh, Dad, please,” Iris made a face. 

“Yes, please, as in please hurry up and get your butts in bed,” Joe said, “Laura and Steve and Myra and Stefan and all of them can wait until tomorrow.”

Another half hour and then “Goodnight, Dad!” and “G’night Joe!” and “Goodnight, baby, goodnight, Barry,” and Joe finally had some quiet and the downstairs to himself. He checked in to make sure both Iris and Barry were really in bed, and that Iris hadn’t snuck extra sweets into her room after having brushed her teeth, and that Barry wasn’t hiding any sweets in his room that he could secret over to Iris after they thought he’d fallen asleep, and he headed down to call his mother.

Even when he’d been younger everyone had called her Miss Esther, but he always just called her Mama. 

“Hi, Mama,” he said when she picked up the phone.

“And how are we doing tonight?” she asked. Joe could picture her with her big owl glasses on, her make up off for the night, her wispy, permanently-dyed-a-light-shade-of-green-from-decades-of-perms-and-dyes hair wrapped up in an ostentatious scarf. 

“We’re doing just fine,” Joe said, and it wasn’t a very big lie.

“And the little one?”

“She’s doing well, too,” and Joe hoped that wasn’t a lie at all.

“And that other little one?”

“His name’s Barry, Mama.”

“Uh-huh. How much of a raise making detective get you? Enough that all a sudden you got enough money to raise two kids on your own?” Joe knew if she were in the room with him she’d be pursing her lips and peering at him over the rim of her glasses. It was the look she’d constantly given him after Francine had left, when she’d come up to stay with him and Iris for close to a year. 

“We’re ok,” he said.

“And you wouldn’t be saying the same if you weren’t doing ok?”

Francine had been so good at talking to her, better than he was. That had surprised him. His mother hadn’t ever liked any of the women he brought home, but she’d loved Francine. They’d bonded over a shared love of Katharine Hepburn (“Much better than that Audrey”) and Creole music, and then over a shared love of teasing him. When his mother got to looking at his life closely and asking him questions he thought no one should ask a grown man, Francine would just lay a hand on his shoulder and remind him that his mom only wanted the best for him, and then she’d turn to her and say, “Now, Miss Geraldine Esther West, aren’t you a little old to be watching over your son so closely? Don’t you have a crossword puzzle to finish?” and his mother would cackle in delight. There was nothing she loved more than being reminded that she was old, and that she didn’t do any of the things old women were supposed to do, save those things that she thought were the god-given rights of the elderly, like automatically and without fail going against whatever their children said just so that their grandchildren could love them more. That was one of the reasons he’d stayed with Francine for so long, even after he’d known that her self-destruction was too much for him, and would spill over and hurt someone else one day.

He’d married Francine because he’d loved her—she was so kind, and so funny, and so pretty, and her love never asked too much of him, not at first. He’d started a family with her because he’d felt she was the only woman he could have one with. He’d been so sure that he couldn’t do it without her. 

“Mama,” Joe said, “you know if I were in any real trouble I’d ask for help. Didn’t I, before?”

But his mother just answered with an “Mmhmmm.” 

It was good to speak to her. He would never admit it aloud, but sometimes he felt overwhelmed with what he’d taken upon himself to do, and it felt good to have someone ask after him and worry about him, even if he would never give in to that worry. Their conversation was intimate, in the way they are when a person has known you for as long as you’ve lived, more filled with their personalities and how they played off of each other than actual words. And it was good, too, to speak to someone who had raised children on her own. He would never go to the single parents meetings his partner at the CCPD kept on pestering him about, but he would talk to his mother. 

The days during the fallout they’d had after Francine had left had been some of his worst. His mother had accused him of being weak and selfish, had asked, “How can you tell a little girl that her mother is dead? Do you even know what you’ve done?” She’d said she was ashamed to have raised a son who couldn’t even speak the truth. He’d told her, “She isn’t yours. She’s mine, she’s my daughter and I will raise her as I see fit.” What he’d meant was _You have to let me do what I can for her, you have to let me protect her, she’s all I have left_ , but all his mother had heard was _Mind your own business_. When Francine said it it somehow came out soft, warm and playful, even, but when he’d said it his mother had stopped speaking to him for months. She’d stayed with him and Iris until she’d felt he could stand on his own again, and then she’d left, only saying goodbye to her granddaughter. 

She was one of the things Barry had helped bring back to him. He brightened Iris’s life, which made Joe feel all full in his chest, and when news had gotten down to Miss Geraldine Esther West that her son had taken in a murderer’s child, she’d picked up the phone and the first words out of her mouth had been, “Are you out of your damn mind? I sure hope you’re not doing this to prove anything to me.” It had taken many more phone calls and another stay with them so she could see “the boy” for herself, to convince her that it was a good thing that he was doing, that Barry was good for him and for Iris, that they in return were good for Barry, and that he could do it at all—he could raise Barry, and he could be a good enough father to Iris that the pain of her mother’s absence wouldn’t be something that marred her.

That night his mother ended the call with, “Are you sure you’re doing ok, Joseph?” She and Francine were the only ones who’d ever called him that.

“I’m ok, Mama.”

“All right, then. Goodnight, honey.”

“Goodnight, Mama.”

*

The next morning was Saturday, which meant early morning coffee and the paper for him, and later, chocolate chip pancakes and orange juice for Iris and Barry. 

Iris had basketball practice that day. She and Barry sat on the porch talking to each other all morning, as if they had to stuff in as much as they could get of each other before Iris had to leave, and then when Mrs. Schlossberg stopped by in her minivan full of girls to pick Iris up, Barry stood on the sidewalk and watched it until it disappeared from the road.

On the porch Joe called out to him, “You ready, Barry? We only have a few more minutes before we head out.”

Barry stood looking down the road a moment more, and then he made his way back to the house. He passed Joe without comment, and it was only after Joe had closed the door behind them and Barry was halfway up the steps that he turned around and said, “Joe, do I have to go?”

“You know what the answer is, Barry.”

“But I’m better now. I swear. I—I can play a sport, like Iris, if you want. I can run, kind of.”

“Barry, come on. We go through this every weekend.”

“Joe _please_ ,” Barry said, and suddenly there was a pleading in his voice that made Joe frown. “I promise I won’t be bad anymore. I’ll keep my door open. I—” and here Barry took a deep breath, “I know the man in yellow isn’t—” Barry placed a hand on the bannister and gripped it so Joe could see his knuckles go white, “I know you’re right about him and that he isn’t real.” 

Joe had seen Barry angry before, and he’d seen him scared. But he’d never had the sense, even during Barry’s loudest protests, that Barry was afraid of _him_. It shook him, to see Barry lie to him like this, and he couldn’t make out why he was lying.

“Barry,” Joe said carefully, “What happened that night was something that happened to you. You don’t have to talk to me about it if you don’t want to. And you don’t—” Joe wasn’t sure how to continue. Barry had said what he’d thought he wanted to hear, but once he’d said it, Joe had realized that that wasn’t want he wanted to hear at all. Joe didn’t begrudge Barry whatever story he had to believe so that he wouldn’t fall apart. “The man in yellow,” it wasn’t something he wanted to take from Barry. All he wanted was for Barry not to feel alone. 

“Barry,” he said, and he approached the stairs, placing one foot on the bottom step. “You don’t have to tell me anything about it. But I don’t want you to keep all of that bottled up inside of you. I want you to be able to talk to someone about it.”

“I do talk to someone about it. I talk to Iris.” Barry's voice was adamant, defiant, almost, and he spoke as if he were saying something obvious. 

Joe shook his head. This had been one of the things he’d been scared of, one of the things that had given him pause before filling all the papers needed to take Barry in. In the days since the night of Nora’s murder, and he arranged it in his head that way, he said _The night of Nora’s murder_ to himself instead of _The night Henry killed Nora_ for Barry’s sake, he’d seen Iris be kinder and braver than most people he’d met in his life, and it made him so proud. But she was still just a little girl, his little girl, and he didn’t want her to take on any more than she already had to.

“Barry, it’s good that you can talk to Iris,” Joe said, because he didn’t want to disturb what had brought such happiness to his home, “but I want you to talk to someone else, too. Someone older. Do you understand?”

Barry didn’t say anything, he just looked down at his feet.

“I’m not mad, Barry. But can you just tell me, is there a reason why you don’t want to see your doctor today?”

Barry mumbled something.

“What did you say, Bare?” Joe used the name that Iris liked calling him.

“I said I don’t want to be a freak anymore.”

“Oh, son,” Joe said, because he was overcome with a sudden tenderness, and the minute the word was out of his mouth Barry ran down the steps and threw his arms around him. It was the first time he called Barry that, but it wouldn't be the last.

That day Barry didn’t go to his therapy session. Joe called and cancelled, wincing at the fee he would have to pay for cancelling late. Instead he and Barry went to watch Iris practice. She was so surprised to see them at the court that she actually stopped in the middle of a practice game to clamber up the bleachers and hug them. “Daddy, Barry!” she cried, “You’re here!” and Joe tried not to feel a pang at having had to miss so many of her games. She smacked her cheek against his own in greeting, and then very daintily gave Barry a peck on his.

“Ugh, I’m all sweaty, I’m sorry Barry,” she said, but all Barry did was beam at her. When Joe saw how Barry whooped and hollered every time Iris caught a pass or dribbled the ball down the court, shouting "Woohoo, go Iris!" he knew he'd made the right decision, even though Iris got so distracted with her giggling from Barry's cheering that she almost threw the ball at a teammate's head.

Later, after Iris’s practice was over and she’d said goodbye to all her friends, Joe piled her and Barry into the car and headed to the mall. They were going to Burlington Coat Factory. It was cheap enough for them all to be able to get something without his having to spend too much money. 

The sales clerks in the store knew them well, and so Joe felt safe letting Iris and Barry walk around by themselves. He stayed near the front to flirt harmlessly with Yonita, the Sales Manager, who was twice divorced and had told him a man with two kids was a death sentence to any woman who was looking for a husband. When Barry and Iris made their way back to him all they had was a bowtie, which Iris handed to him.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“It’s a bowtie. For Barry,” Iris explained.

Joe looked over at him. He was looking down at his feet. “He wanted to get suspenders because Steve Urkel has them, but I don’t know why anyone would want to look like Steve Urkel.” 

Barry didn’t say anything, but he turned red. The kid had a tell. 

“I managed to talk him out of it. What do you think, Dad, isn’t a bowtie better than suspenders?”

“Uh-huh,” was all Joe said, shaking his head, and as he handed the bowtie over to Yonita to pay for it, she said, “You know, you three are just cute enough for me to forget my no kids ban.”

“Thanks, Yonita,” Joe said, “I always knew having kids would pay off some day,” and he was filled with a mirthfulness that made him hope Iris didn’t ask him for anything too wild in the next few hours, because with the way he was feeling, he would say yes to anything either she or Barry asked for. 

*

That night, when Joe spoke to his mother again, he told her something that was closer to the truth. 

She asked, “So, how are we doing tonight?”

Joe answered, “We’re a little broken, but we’re good.” He heard the boards of the hallway creaking upstairs, and he knew he’d have to go tell one of them to get back to their room, but he thought maybe he’d let them stay up for a little longer. “Yeah, still good.”

 

8

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the tumblr fam for them spontaneous 90s and Grandma Esther feels. In college Barry and Iris both have [this as a poster](https://66.media.tumblr.com/3f06a20d301fb1fb96bf46690e37e15f/tumblr_inline_oan88iSl3p1qi39fd_540.jpg) up in their dorm rooms.
> 
> tags: west allen family feels
> 
> The title and quote are from Lilo & Stitch
> 
> Comments much appreciated! :)


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